time to soar, once more…

the interviewer asked me what my view on achievement was. it took me a full five seconds to digest the question and think of what sushmita sen would have answered this in the miss universe.

i said, ”i believe that the real essence of achievement is pride and joy in the successful accomplishment of any goal that you set for yourself, no matter how trivial it may be.”

this answer may be the reason why one of the best contact centers in the world has offered me a contract for a job that pays enough so i can feed 15 people a day for the whole month. haha. (that was the bytch in me talking.)

but the key word here is GOAL.

last december 14th, i set a goal for myself. of course you must remember that i promised not to drink anymore. and yes, i am proud and joyful that it had been (Whoah!!!) 5 months (and going) that i  am alcohol-and-problem-free.

now that is an achievement.

on february 1st, i set another goal. to be boyfriend-and-headache-free. and yes, thank you, my heart is now resting peacefully. although i still like he-who-is-the-radio-god-of-the-visayas. haha.

goal accomplished. but until when, i can not say.

may 1st brought a new set of goals. and a whole new batch of opportunities.

i have decided to go back to the big old metro, to the city that refuses to sleep, to be the corporate whore that i think i was bred and educated to be. i burnt half of my brain cells thinking about this, so do not judge me to be fickle-minded and impulsive. as was expected, i talked to my hero/father about this, and i thought that i was going to be presented with a long sermon paired with a bucket of tears, but lo and behold, i was wrong. my dad was at first hesitant to agree, but with a little bit more prodding, he consented, saying, ” Okay yan Ga, I’m sure kaya mo na, kasi di ka na umiinom.” and with that he smiled, with that special smile that he gives to me, and i hugged him. my father is once again setting me free.

free na magsabog ng lagim sa metro.

this decision was a bit difficult to make, what with my current responsibilities in the foundation, of course the radio program, and the teeny weeny bit of help that my presence gives to my family.

and also, i am in my comfort zone. here, i will never ever go hungry, or penniless, or destitute. i am as comfortable as i can be. i don’t have to worry about the rent, the food, and i don’t have to sleep late, i don’t have to wake up early, i don’t have to do a lot of things. i have financial freedom. i have a car at my disposal.  and most importantly, my dad is here, to take care of me when i am sick, to talk to me and listen to me and comfort me when my brothers are being assholes. really, one would think that there may not be anything else i could ask for.

i could stay here forever.

but, i know myself well. and some of you pickles reading this article know me as well. i know myself enough that i can not stay here forever.

i am not a creature made for comfort. this brain fizzles and shrivels in inertness. 8 months ago, my IQ was 147. yesterday, i tested to be to an all time low of 130. i can no longer answer complex questions such as “If John is taller than Maria, and Maria is taller than Bobby, how tall is your neighbor?”

i work and perform better when in a crisis, or a time frame.  i love multi-tasking, meaning, i can read a book while playing chess, while listening to my agent’s call, while answering an online personality test. and no, i am not kidding.

i love being in a crazy environment, where i can boss around, and be bossed around. in an environment where you deal with insanity on a day to day basis. i thrive in a place where your boss gives you a deadline now that was due yesterday, where he demands that you resolve an issue even a rocket scientist can’t.

i miss not being able to sleep for more than 5 hours because your travel time is as much as your time in the office. i miss waking up at 2 am and taking a cold damn shower a minute later, and fixing my make up in the elevator on the way down to a street where i can be robbed before i get to a taxi.

i miss avaya, and conference calls, and feeling superior against americans. i miss having to time in and out, i miss over time. i miss tall buildings, and new year fireworks that you look down to instead of up.

oh god, i miss the busses. ordinary or aircon. “o, ayala, ayala, libertad, pasay, quiapo, impyerno.” even that, i miss.

i miss the cholesterol-laden kwek-kwek, the authentic california maki, mcDo and mcDon’t, krispy kreme and gloria jean’s coffee.

i miss being alone in the house, naked, smoking in the window and watching the mall of asia from my 12th floor unit.

all these were my life for 6 years, crap i know, but dear gods, how i miss it.

and that is why i am leaving this comfortable zone.

aside from these reasons, i need to be able to take care of my daughter Nylxze Danyaelabelle Alvyette, who is going to be on First Grade at St. Scholastica’s this year. I want to be able to send and pick her up from school. I want to watch her grow into being a beautiful, smart and talented lady. I want to be there when everything happens to her.

more than all these, i need to go back out on my own to be able to prove that i can do it without the previous mistakes. i need to prove to my dad that i have matured a bit. i need to prove to my mom that i can be financially responsible. i have to prove to my family that i am no longer what they know me to be.

and i need to prove to myself that i can now fly high because my talons are not gripping a bottle of tequila anymore…

suck them all up… or perish

i hate being fat. i am tired of being fat. i have got to stop being fat.

yes, yes, more than anyone else in this world, i understand the cliche’ “beauty is only skin deep” and “fat and black” is beautiful, which is a lot of baloney if you ask me. these things only work for queen latifah and camryn manheim, not someone inconspicuously plain like me.

okay, i love myself. that is not the point. i am not insecure, that is the point. however, i do not love the oil that clings to my body like a million leeches that are slowly sucking the life out of me. i hate the lard that my belly can produce that may butter the bread of a multitude of starving african children.

i hate not being able to move like akiko thompson. i hate not being able to wear my low, low, low jeans. i hate not being able to use my manolo blahnik gorgeous, gorgeous knee-high boots.

and most of all, i hate and i hurt being commented upon about being fat.

“hey, you sound really slim on the radio. you have such a beautiful voice!” one fan would gush in awe of my fatness. yeah, yeah, shut the fuck up. i know i am fat. and i never said on the radio that i am wonder woman. you expected. your expectations disapponted you. i disappointed you.  not me.

“maa’m, parang galit kayo sa pagkain a.” or, “maa’m, sa kusina yata kayo natutulog, ah.” they would tell me this everytime they see me eating. even if it’s only a piece of carrot. or a stick of celery. or a spoonful of soup.

gods! i starve myself almost to death nowadays, but still, people think that i am gorging my fat ass like the devil.

true, this is not anyone else’s fault that i became a 154 lb monster.

 it is my fault.

 it is my fault for having an hormonal imbalance. it is my fault for having pcos (polycystic ovarian syndrome) that slowed my thyroids and my blasted metabolism to a goddamn halt.

it is my fault that i belong to a family of hedonists who considers lunch as a daily fiesta. a family who recently had 2 reunions, 1 christmas celebration and 1 new year celebration, 2 weddings in 2 months, and a food fest every sunday. yes, all these in a mere 5 months.

it is my fault that some people are so fond of me that they invite me to some of their gatherings which–as filipinos–is empty without serving a ton of food. i used to go to a business associate’s house (who happens to be my big radio fan) for a visit, and i would be welcomed with a feast fit for dignitaries and such. this would happen on a normal day. imagine, they would have a pig slaughtered for the occassion of my arrival, which happens almost every week.  gods! all my visits put together is equivalent to 36,789,699 calories, most of which is still in my thighs. yes, this is my fault.

it is my fault that i have a job that allows me to have limited activity. the most strenous part of my day is when i take a bath. thanks to my job sitting behind a desk all the time.

it is my fault that the world views fat people as hedonistic, lazy and ugly creatures not worthy of a “weet-weew” from anybody.

……i pause to wipe my tears…..

in my life, there could be no one else who has an open mind on things more than me. i strive to look at things twice and at both sides. that is not vanity, that is just the way that i have developed. and looking at both sides mean that i have to understand that this world and its people has certain expectations and beliefs that being fat is not beautiful.

 it might be because it is not healthy. which is true. according to recent studies conducted on mice, consuming less calories and lower body fat percentage increases the mice’s life expectancy. and increases their production of endorphins, which means they are generally happier. lucky bloody mice. i wish i could have been a lab rat then.

it might also be because out of 100 models, only 1 is acceptably fat. really. we all know that all models are thin. probably becaue being a thin model would mean lesser amount of cloth used for a dress that is barely there anyway. more revenues for bloody valentino and ralph lauren. yeah. i think that is really why models are like stick figures. one yard of fabric draped over them costs less than a dollar, but hey, i will sell this for $7000. haha!

one other thing that makes the world’s view on fat people dim, is… SEX.

let us face it, in men, as you go bigger, ’something’ there becomes smaller.

come on, i wasted a considerable 4 years of my life with 2 fat men to know that it is true. which, does not make it true for everyone, though (disclaimer, haha). in my limited experience of having gone to bed with about 40 people, oh yes, the bigger they are, the smaller it is. which in turn, makes it more difficult to do an overrated 69, of a hump-from-the-back, or some 56 other sexual positions.

this is so much truer in women. woe unto the guy who has a fat partner. who likes being on top. and who likes sitting on the face.

need i say more?

again, being fat is not that cool.

so back to my misery. that i fueled by my own words to depression.

i look at myself and i see a woman who is fat, and hates it. beautiful, but fat. talented, but fat. street-smart and intelligent, but fat. has gorgeous,gorgeous hair, but fat. can kick your ass in 5 seconds, but fat.

therefore, this is a cause for action. i have to stop being fat. i have never acknowledged this truth not until today, when i got so fat my kidneys almost killed me in pain. my sister in law A vowed to start a new trick (i hate saying diet) with me. the plan is, abstinence from food for 5 days, only warm water or tea is allowed. this is called fasting, i told her. and i double checked on my medical resources to make sure this will not kill my sexual functions. don’t worry, dahling, it won’t.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fasting

after the first five days, we will fast alternately, which means, fast today, gorge tomorrow. starve today, gluttony tomorrow.

and i am so up to this challenge. i managed to stay off of alcohol ever since december 13, (yey! 5 months now) thru sheer strength of will, so i know that i can do this too.

so dahlin, would you be an angel and whisper a little prayer for my fat to get all sucked up?